


A Very Sturdy Chair

by hellostarlight20



Series: Pushing Boundaries [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Plot, Sex, chair smut, slight romance, yes plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:36:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8391028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellostarlight20/pseuds/hellostarlight20
Summary: Rose wants to fulfill John's fantasy before she breaks things off with him. It's not his fault she fell in love with him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set before A Very Sturdy Desk, this has a plot. Swear. And sex, very explicit chair sex. But romantic, angsty plot!

Rose Tyler never considered herself that kind of girl. Except in her darkest fantasies. In the three months since meeting Doctor John Noble on a train to London, each and every one of those fantasies came to vivid, delicious, life.

Twice a week she took the train from Leeds to Oxford and spent every spare minute she had experiencing, learning, feeling. It was glorious to feel so much.

John never scoffed at anything she wanted to try—he often told her she was the kinky one. However, John’s willingness to indulge each of her desires, and several she never imagined enjoying, told her otherwise. Today was not about her.

It was about him.

For the first and last time, Rose walked out of the Tube station to Oxford’s Department of Physics building, body a combination of nerves and arousal. Picking at her cuticle, Rose stopped at the front desk and played with her earing for a brief moment before realizing what she did. Dropping her hand she smiled. The student behind the main desk —who looked about twelve— looked up from his books.

Rose smiled at him as she would any customer who walked into the gallery. It hid her nervousness perfectly.

“Hi,” she said in as calm a voice as possible given the way her breath came short. “I’m looking for Doctor Noble’s office.”

“Oh yes,” he said. “Yes, ma’am.”

Heart tripping with anticipation and arousal, Rose waited for the man to jump from his seat. She eyed him, not really expecting an escort, and waited until he exited the little cubbyhole of an office.

“I’ll show you where it is, ma’am.”

Biting back a grin, Rose nodded for him to lead her through hallways filled with students, professors, and curious eyes.

Oh, yes, she was that kind of girl.

The kind who reveled in knowing what she was about to do was as dirty as these halls had ever witnessed. The kind whose arousal tightened deliciously with each step, knowing this little sexual tryst might be heard throughout the same hallowed halls of a revered university.

A shiver raced up her spine. Nervous though she might be, the idea of fucking John in his office with so many people around aroused her to the point she wanted to touch herself right there. It surprised Rose she could still surprise herself.

Three months of fucking John and there was very little she kept hidden from him. Rose felt more comfortable around him than her oldest friends, and shared more with him, too. Not just about her sex life—he was her sex life she knew it and he did, too—but her daily life as well.

“Here you go, ma’am,” the kid said.

It was only then Rose realized two things: one, he’d been talking to her the entire walk and she heard not one word. Two her hand drifted to the top of her breast, fingers teasing the skin revealed by her button-down blouse.

“Thank you.” Rose dropped her hand and grinned at the kid, only slightly embarrassed. “What was your name?”

“Timmy, ma’am,” he stammered.

“Nice to meet you, Timmy.”

He nodded and stepped back. With a final look he turned and walked down the hall.

Rose took a breath, ran a hand down her skirt and over her knicker-less arse, and knocked on the door.

“Enter.”

His deep voice washed over her and Rose swallowed hard. She was here for one reason and one reason only—to fulfill John’s wish of fucking in his chair when the building still swarmed with people.

Right—and he said she was the kinky one.

Rose pushed open the door. John sat behind his large desk, that sexy goatee bracketing a mouth set in a thin line and the sexiest glasses ever made perched on his long nose. Oh boy, she loved those glasses. He read from the stack of papers in front of him, very professorial with only the slightest hint of the dominant lover she craved.

Opposite him sat a man with short brown hair and a thin face that was nonetheless handsome despite the pinched nervousness to it.

John’s eyes met hers and blue ice instantly darkened to stormy blue-grey. She hadn’t told him her plan; they talked about this weeks ago. It was only today both their schedules matched. Hers with a requested day off from the gallery she hadn’t told him about and his with office hours that matched her plan.

Today was also the last time she planned to travel to Oxford. She just hadn’t quite figured out how to tell John yet.

“I can wait,” Rose said easily and sank into the spare chair by the door. She left the door wide open.

The student turned and looked at her, and Rose offered an easy smile. As soon as he turned back, Rose very deliberately met John’s gaze and unbuttoned a single button of her blouse. Several people walked past the office, chatting about science or astronomy or the latest football matches.

John’s eyes took on that stormy look he always got when then did this. He didn’t look away, despite his student. Rose slipped another button free and ran her fingers over the swell of her breasts. She knew her hard nipples were visible through the thin silk of her blouse.

She had, after all, played with them on the train ride down. Rose brushed her fingers over them now, heart quickening. His eyes followed the movement.

“This looks good, Rory,” John said abruptly. “You have a real gift for trans-dimensional theory.”

Rose watched him very deliberately keep his stormy blue eyes on Rory. She sat primly in the chair, legs demurely crossed at the knee, and kept her eyes on John and her hands on her breasts. Rose cupped her breasts, arching her back, and scratching her nails over her skin just lightly enough to leave a mark.

John’s lips pressed together. Rose’s smile widened.

Go out with a bang, yeah?

Her heart pounded and her hips jerked. All day the thought of doing this kept her on edge; now, so close to fulfilling her goal, her body craved the release only John provided. The darkness she hadn’t ever spoken of until that day on a train.

Talk about pushing her boundaries, exploring new things. John indulged her in every aspect, always striving for more—how far she would go, how much pain her body could take until she orgasmed. How desperately she begged him.

She bit her lip to stifle her moan and purposely stilled her hips.

Her punishment if she came in front of him—and without permission—delicious though that would be, was not worth messing this afternoon up for him.

John said something else to Rory, who took his papers and stood. Rose dropped her hands and smile innocently at the man, who met her gaze and nodded. Huh, quite the gentleman, didn’t even look at her opened blouse or the copious skin revealed. John, on the other hand, most certainly did look.

The second Rory walked through that door, John met her gaze. His beautiful blue eyes hardened, face set. Rose shivered, body clenching in want.

“Close the door, Rose.”

Rose stood and closed the door with a quiet snick—but left it unlocked. She turned, blouse still unbuttoned to her naval, nipples aching, body quivering.

“What are you doing here, Rose?”

She walked the few steps between the door and the desk, and ran her fingers over the edge of it. “Giving you what you want,” she purred.

He couldn’t hide his surprise or the hunger in his eyes. “And what do I want?”

“I’m here,” she said, pushing through her nerves and her remorse at ending this, and embraced what they had.

It was never meant to be more than sex. Than fucking.

She may have developed feelings for Doctor John Noble outside their fantastic sex life, but that didn’t mean she was going to tell him. Honesty, openness, authenticity —they were all part of her relationship with John.

Love? That was most definitely not. No matter how her traitorous heart thought otherwise.

“For you.” Rose leaned against the desk, hands flat on the surface, bracing her. Her blouse fell open and once more drew his gaze. “You wanted to fuck me in your new chair.”

Rose leaned down and dragged her fingers over his cock. She knew he was hard, there was no use either of them denying it. She knew the effect she had on him and exactly how to use it.

Sex was easy.

How was she supposed to tell the man who lost everything that she loved him? How was she supposed to convince him she wasn’t going anywhere? John kept even his sister, his last living relative, at a distance, and Rose ached for him.

It hurt knowing she could never tell him how she felt. Well she could—it’d have the same effect as her ending things today. Except with considerably less pride on her part.

“I recall,” John said in that low, hard voice that sent shivers down her spine and straight to her pussy.

“Hmm.” She cupped his balls through his trousers. He hissed, jerked in her hand. “I’m sure you do.”

“Is that why you’re here, Rose?” His hands settled on her hips. In one quick move, he pulled her onto his lap.

Rose gasped, whimpered. Her straight-cut skirt gave her no maneuverability, most likely his intent. Hands on his shoulders, she met his gaze. John’s fingers gripped her thighs and he very deliberately pushed her skirt up to her hips.

His touch shot through her like electricity, sharp and hot. Her already wet pussy clenched for his touch, his fingers in her. His cock.

John ran his fingers over her wetness and Rose arched into them. She straddled his hips, more comfortable without the confines of her skirt, and pressed down. One finger slipped into her wetness then stilled. A teasing touch meant to make her beg.

“Naughty girl,” he growled. “No knickers.”

Fingers combing through his close cropped hair, Rose boldly met his icy gaze. “You like it when I don’t wear any,” she shot back. But her voice was low and her heart thudded loudly in her ears. “In fact, I distinctly remember you telling me just last week how you never wanted me to wear them again.”

Finger slipping out of her, John grasped her arse, hands digging into her sensitive flesh. But his eyes were steady, despite the hardness of his cock pressing against her wet pussy.

“I said,” he hissed, “that I preferred you bare and ready for me. I like knowing how wet you are beneath your clothes, how that wetness rubs across your legs with every step.”

Her breath caught and Rose struggled for words. She rocked against him, uncaring she smeared that very wetness across his trousers. His fingers slipped between her legs, gliding over her clit, another teasing touch that made her crave more. A physical ache for completion.

“I do love that,” Rose admitted. “Just as I love when you touch me.”

John growled, a low vibration that danced along her nerves. His fingers, wet from her juices, cupped her face and tangled in her hair. Rose didn’t know if he did that on purpose and didn’t care. In the last three months very little embarrassed her.

He kissed her roughly, that hard, dangerous kiss that told her how on edge he hovered. Rose wrapped her arms around him, ground against his cock, and devoured him just as he did her.

“Fuck me, John.” Rose looked at him through hooded eyes and tugged her bra down, over her breasts. She pinched her nipples and gasped, body shaking, trembling for an orgasm. “Take me in your office where anyone could walk in and see us.”

She met his blue gaze and licked her lips. “It’s what you want, I know it is. You want to make me scream, you love it when I do. You want people to hear us. You want to fuck me until I can’t stand then do it again because you know I’ll enjoy it.”

Rose had no idea where the words came from, but didn’t bother to stop them. They both knew she spoke the truth. And with every honest word falling from her lips, Rose rocked harder against him. More, she wanted more until she came, screaming his name in pleasure.

“Lift your hips.”

She instantly obeyed and watched his steady fingers unfasten his trousers and push them and his pants down just enough. Rose may have hummed in appreciation; after all, John was a well-built man and knew how to use every bit of his body to please her. She licked her lips, hungry for his taste, to take his cock in her mouth.

“Condom?”

Rose pulled it from her skirt’s half-pocket, pleased with her foresight. She expertly rolled it on him, dropping the wrapper on his desk.

“Stand up,” he commanded.

Confused, but willing, Rose did as he ordered. She wiggled off his lap a tad ungracefully and stood in front of him. Not bothering to lower her skirt, she felt exposed and aroused and less and less self-conscious with every breath. With every look he gave her.

The hungry look in those blue eyes shivered through her. His fingers, so soft and feather-light over her belly, her hips, aroused, yes—but also served to remind her how gentle he could be. The spankings, the toys, the hard fucking and orgasm delay, the multiple orgasms until she couldn’t stand another touch yet begged for more, all that went into their sex life was one side of John.

Only a single side.

Rose loved that side, the teacher, the master, the dom. He aroused and teased and promised and every single time fulfilled her wildest, darkest desires. The other side of him, the man who held her after, who stroked her skin and kissed her softly and asked after her day and truly listened. That was the side she fell in love with.

“Turn around, Rose.”

Rose turned and looked at the still closed door. Her breath caught. What if it opened? What if a student or professor walked in and saw them? She shuddered, a moan escaping unbidden.

“Watch the door,” he said as if he knew what she thought.

Probably did, too. His fingers danced up her inner thighs, over her wet pussy, but didn’t do more than tease. He nipped one buttock, the memory of her last spanking still so vivid Rose moaned again.

“Would you stop if someone knocked?” John’s breath ghosted over her arse, her sensitive rear entrance. “Would you lower your skirt and pretend you’re a demure woman visiting your professor lover?”

He spread her legs wider, and Rose gripped the edge of the desk until her knuckles whitened. John nipped her other buttock, fingers teasing her more insistently. Brushing over her pussy, blunt nail scraping her clit. He pinched the sensitive area just below her arse and Rose pushed backward.

More. 

“Answer me, Rose.”

“No.” She gasped and pressed back again, harder. “No I wouldn’t stop, I wouldn’t hide. You know I wouldn’t. I’d stand right here as you fucked me. While they watched.”

They hadn’t done that—had sex in front of another. But the very idea aroused her so fiercely, wound her body so tightly, she almost came right there and without permission. Until meeting John on that train, Rose had no idea what an exhibitionist she was or how little she cared if someone did watch her and John. How much she wanted that.

“No.” His fingers flashed over her pussy again, spreading her wide, just dipping in. There and gone too soon. “You wouldn’t, my lovely Rose. Someone listening outside, ear pressed to the door—you’d enjoy it.”

She thought of Timmy standing outside, listening to her cry out in pleasure and another surge of arousal made her knees weak. John’s laugh brushed against the small of her back and another shiver raced down her spine.

He pulled back and she cried out, skin desperate for his touch. Rose looked over her shoulder and frowned at John—he reached down to something on the chair. He should’ve looked awkward, hard, long cock bobbing out like that as he bent over. He looked beautiful.

The chair’s wheels locked in place.

John reached for her again and pulled her back. Rose leaned forward and his cock easily slid in her wetness. Braced on the desk, John filling her, Rose closed her eyes and gave herself over.

“John,” she moaned.

He moved hard, fingers gripping her hips so tight Rose knew she’d bruise. She didn’t care. Bent forward, fingers tight around the desk edges, legs braced on either side of his, she wanted more.

John spread his legs wider and gripped her thighs, holding her still. Spread like this, Rose tried to grind down, but he kept her exactly where he wanted her. His fingers dug into her hips and he urged her faster. She knew he was close, felt it in the unevenness of his thrusts, in the harshness of his breathing.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered. “I want to hear you come.”

“Yes.”

Rose rubbed her fingers in short, hard circles over her clit. Her orgasm tightened through her and she cried out. Head thrown back, fingers still moving, she suddenly wanted to look at John. Wanted to see the both of them, partially clothed, his cock buried in her, fucking in his office.

They needed a mirror.

“Again.”

She whimpered but Rose scraped her nail over her clit, fingers working faster as her pleasure blossomed through her. John nipped her back, along her shoulders.

“Yes.” Rose pinched her clit. “Yes!”

With a growl, John came. Exhausted, elated, blood singing, Rose leaned her head against his chest and tightened around his cock. His fingers slid around her, brushing her sensitive clit in short, hard strokes; Rose tugged hard on her nipples.

She wanted another orgasm and she wanted the entire building to know it.

“Do it,” John commanded. “I know you can.” His fingers circled her clit, and Rose arched her hips into his touch. “One more, my Rose. Come for me one more time.”

The force of her orgasm surprised her. Rose cried out, arching into his touch as her body stiffened and her toes curled. Mind blissfully blank, she heard John groan her name.

When reality interfered once more and Rose was able to open her eyes, John was kissing along her back, soft opened mouth kissed down her spine. The scratch of his goatee made her shiver. His fingers, gentle now, caressed her thighs and hips, and despite the position, he held her tenderly.

She thought she could stay like that forever, letting him hold her, kiss her like it meant more than—

“Was that what you wanted?” Rose stood on shaking legs and he slipped out of her. With some difficulty, she swallowed her moan at the loss.

John barked out a laugh—tired, spent, but so pleased—and disposed of the condom. She smiled; oh she wanted to please him. Not only craved his dominance, the sex, the addicting decadence and desire she enjoyed, but his unfettered enjoyment of it. Of her.

“Rose.” He shook his head, a half-smirk playing around his mouth. He pulled up his pants and trousers and smoothed down her skirt. “That’s it exactly.”

His kiss was gentle, almost loving and for a minute, Rose allowed herself to believe…to pretend…

“Thank you.” He caressed her cheek in that way that made her think she could pretend for just a little longer.

“I’m glad.” She pulled back and hoped she hid her emotions well enough. She didn’t want this to end, didn’t want to stop seeing him. Even if every meeting broke her heart a little more.

“I didn’t expect you today,” he admitted, stepping back. “Want to stop for Thai or Indian before heading to the flat?”

Yes, she was starving. No, she couldn’t eat anything, her stomach already churned with nerves. Rose shook her head. Now or never.

“No, I need to get back to Leeds.”

John frowned, eyes piercing as if he knew she lied. “You took the train all the way here just for this?”

“I wanted to give this—” she nodded to the chair they both picked out—“to you,” Rose admitted. She swallowed, took a deep breath that did absolutely nothing for her nerves contrary to what the books always said, and plunged ahead. “I’m not going to come down here anymore, John.”

His frown deepened and he crossed his arms over his chest. Really the move should not be so damn erotic. But it pulled his white button down across his shoulders and drew her gaze. Rose blinked and met his eyes again.

“Why not?”

Time for her speech. She’d memorized it over the last three weeks when she realized, the last time he took the train up to Leeds. When Rose realized how deeply she really felt for him.

“I enjoy the sex,” she admitted. “It’s—it’s fantastic. More than I ever thought before that train ride when we met. You helped me explore a side of myself I didn’t know how to even acknowledge let alone enjoy.”

John said nothing. Rose raised her chin and kept her voice steady. She wanted to fidget, play with her earring, chew her cuticle which already bled on the train ride down. She wanted to gather her coat and purse and pretend this was all nothing.

If she wanted to walk out of this relationship with dignity, she owed him her direct honesty.

“But I can’t do it anymore,” she conceded.

John watched her for several long, silent minutes. Her toes curled in her shoes in both an effort not to move and from the sheer hotness of that look.

“Why?”

In her head, Rose envisioned several scenarios where John demanded an explanation. No matter what she thought or how long she dwelled on it, Rose still hadn’t come up with a better answer than the truth.

_I’m in love with you._

Which she sure as hell wasn’t telling him.

She also didn’t want to lie, not when their entire relationship was based on honesty.

So she hedged. “It feels…hollow. Like the only thing between us is sex.”

His eyebrows shot up and damn if he didn’t look a hundred times sexier. “The only thing between us is sex, Rose.”

She broke. Sucking in a breath, heart aching, Rose nodded. She gathered her things but never looked away from him.

“I know,” she said sadly. “And that’s why I’m breaking things off.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even move. Rose nodded and turned for the door. She opened it, not entirely sure she wanted John to stop her or not.

He didn’t.

Rose closed the door softly behind her, jaw clenched against anger and tears and her own stupid emotions. It started so simply, strangers on a train meeting and having sex. Really, really fantastic, kinky sex, but only sex no matter how one looked at it.

It was never meant to be more. Never meant to involve emotions. How was she supposed to protect herself when John took more of an interest in her—sex, work, friends—than anyone in her life ever had?  
********

The door closed behind Rose. For one suspended moment John thought she’d come back. Turn around and walk back in.

She did not.

Roaring in—in frustration and anger and he didn’t even know, John swept his arm over the desk. The ensuing crash of papers and office supplies and books did nothing to help. Or break the anger tightening around his heart.

“Christ.”

He kicked his chair, but it only skidded a meter or so across the linoleum floor. He never released the locks on the wheels.

John stared at the chair, the new one he bought specifically to have sex in with Rose. They picked it out together; shopping for it one morning before she needed to board the train back to Leeds.

She had smiled up at him that morning, the happiest grin he’d ever seen on her. Her tongue, a distracting thing on the best of days, teased the corner of her mouth. Her hand in his, they walked the shopping district like a real couple, weaving in and out of stores, laughing and talking. Joking.

He hadn’t thought about his past, his failed relationships, the pain he caused others. Afterward, once Rose left with a lingering kiss at the station and a promise to call him when she arrived at her flat, John even accepted a call from his sister.

It’d been the first time he talked with Donna in months.

Despite the reason for chair shopping, John had never felt so—so alive and happy. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt that way, unencumbered.

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes but the pressure didn’t block out the pain weaving around his heart. When did his heart have any say in his life? When had his heart woken up? Beat for more than practical reasons?

When had he come to care so much about Rose? Looked forward not only to the sex but to eating with her after, Rose in one of his jumpers and little else grinning at him across the table like they did this every day. Like that could do it every day.

When had sex become more? When had meeting Rose and fucking her become walks in Oxford and dinner together and talking once she reached her place in Leeds? When had it become him texting her in the mornings before lectures or her sending pictures of her latest artwork?

When had he fallen in love with Rose Tyler?


End file.
